


Love me mercilessly.

by pansypark



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Choking, Collars, M/M, Oral Sex, general sexyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansypark/pseuds/pansypark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if I started wearing a collar?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love me mercilessly.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is unbeta'd and written at like four in the morning with the help of lots and lots of mountain dew. So I apologize for how terrible it is. Also, it got kind of long. Welp.

The first time the idea had been introduced, Derek had been a bit...distracted. Stiles was mouthing kisses along his neck, sharp teeth scraping over the skin before a hot tongue pressed against the marks, soothing. His hand was shoved down Derek’s pants, fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking along at an irritatingly slow rate, causing Derek to growl and drag the boy’s mouth up to his own. The kiss was harsh; teeth clacking together and biting at lips, tongues battling for dominance before giving up defeat.

Stiles had pulled back with a raspy laugh, twisting his wrist in such a way that had Derek’s hips rocking upwards to get more friction. His hand picks up speed before Derek could say anything, fingers tightening at the base before dragging upwards, thumb swiping along the head to collect the precum. Derek groaned, pressing back into the mattress, content to let Stiles do all the work.

Which was probably a mistake because almost as soon as he was relaxed, his climax just a hare’s breath away, Stiles stopped. A growl was the only response before Derek blinked open his eyes to take in the sight of a very...nervous Stiles.

He was biting at his bottom lip, eyes darting back and forth nervously before he let out a shaky breath. He tucked his forehead against Derek’s shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses on the skin he finds there and starts up a slower pace, almost as if he was being cautious. 

“Stiles,” Derek growls, one hand coming up to grip at the nape of the boy’s neck. “What is it?” He knows that he wont be able to get off until Stiles gets whatever it is off of _his_ chest. And Derek really, _really_ wants to get off. He figures he could spare a few minutes on this if the end result was that irritating mouth put to much better use. Preferably on his cock. 

The blush that decorates the boy’s face just intrigues him further, curiosity prickling on the edge of his lust-clouded mind. He pushes himself up on his elbows, dragging him into a slow kiss before pulling back, expression confused. Stiles just blushes further, averting his eyes.

The words he says next only confuse Derek further. They’re muttered against his skin in a poor attempt to hide them, but Derek’s hearing is _exceptional_ , even without the werewolf powers. “What if I started wearing a collar?”

Realization comes like a punch to the gut and Derek damn near cums from the image alone. Stiles kneeling between his legs, lips bruised and swollen, dripping from Derek’s saliva and semen. Cheeks red and flushed, marring his normally pale skin. A thick strip of leather wrapped around his pretty little neck, loose enough for him to breathe but still tight enough for him to know it’s there, for it to have an effect. 

Derek growls, Alpha red eyes flashing before he’s flipping them over, pinning the teenager beneath him. Stiles yelps, doe eyes wide, but he has little time to react before Derek is taking as much as he can.

When they finish, collapsing against each other on the sheets, Stiles lets out a startled laugh, rolling his head to the side to look up at Derek with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“I take that as a yes, then?” He says, words light with amusement, and Derek just snorts, rolling his eyes at him and pulling him against his chest.

\--  
The topic doesn't come up again for another several weeks afterwards. Stiles is busy studying for finals and tutoring Scott while he's at it, and Derek's using the free time to finish fixing up the Hale house. They're both largely unavailable, but each night Derek slips in through the boy's window and curls up with him underneath the sheets, warm.

It was another one of those days where Derek spent the majority of it outside on the roof, hammering in shingles while the sun blazed down from above. His skin was hot and stretched too tight and he was covered in sweat and grime. All he wanted was a shower, but his wasn't up and running yet.

He drove over to the Stilinski's, knowing that neither of them would be home yet and that it would give him ample time to clean up and get dressed before Stiles arrived home from school. He wasn't counting on the kid already being there.

Nor was he counting on Stiles being there _wearing a collar._

It was obvious he had just got it, if the way he was twisting in front of the mirror was any indication. His eyes were fixed solely on the strip of leather encircling his neck, following the movement as he looked at it from as many angles as possible. He had his shirt tossed off too, the garment draped on the back of his computer chair. His nipples were pink and hardened by the chill coming from the open window, or maybe at the sight in front him. His cheeks were flushed, eyes appreciating.

He hadn't even noticed Derek was standing there until the older man growled, eyes burning bright red and fangs elongated. He started, letting out an undignified squeak before crossing his arms over his chest as if he had something to hide. He blushed nervously, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips, offering a weak wave.

"Uh, h-hey, Derek. What're you, uh, doing here?" He asked, nervousness stilting his words. Embarrassment is another emotion that seems to roll off of him in waves, along with the spicy hint of arousal that seems to permanently seep from his skin. Derek just growls again, eyes fixed solely on the strap before his fangs retract and he takes a step forward.

“Where,” he starts, flicking his gaze to meet Stiles’ own before going right back to his neck. He takes a deep breath-bad idea, as the scent of the boy’s emotions surround him, smothering him-before exhaling, trying to regain composure. “Where did you get that?”

His words are thick, heavy with lust and the over-all commanding tone of the Alpha, and Stiles shivers. He swallows thickly, averting his gaze and shuffling around in front of the mirror. He forces out a laugh, curling his fist and punching Derek’s arm lightly, attempting to ease the tension. It’s hard, though, when you’re standing in front of a mirror wearing a collar. It’s a little difficult to pull off easy going at this point.

Stiles heaves out a sigh, hands moving to pull the strap from his neck but then Derek’s there, crowding him against the door with a tight grip on his wrists, stopping them. “Where. Did you. Get it.”

“I bought it online, from one of those kinky BDSM shops.” He says, words rushing out and jumbling together. But he knows Derek heard him because then the red is back, blazing hotter than ever. 

One moment Derek’s in his face, panting against his lips and Stiles knows he’s hard just from that alone. The next, Derek’s a few feet away and just... _staring at him_. Like he’s a scrap of raw meat and he hasn’t eaten in days. Stiles swallows, feels the collar tighten with the motion and he sucks in a breath.

“Kneel,” is all Derek says as he reaches for his belt, pulling it open and dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. It makes a loud _clunk_ as it lands, and if Stiles’ dad was home, he’d be worrying about the man coming up here to find his son in such a compromising situation. 

Instead, he just flounders; mouth opening and closing several times before he forces out a laugh and a confused, “What?”

“I said,” Derek starts, one eyebrow quirking up in mock-irritation, “kneel.” He’s got his hands on his zipper now, pulling it down slowly and Stiles’ eyes watch it with rapt attention. His mouth waters, tongue slipping out to moisten his lips before he’s crashing to the floor and _crawling_ towards the older man. Completely undignified.

Derek seems to like it though, if the heat in his gaze is any indication. Then again, it could be because Stiles is kneeling between his legs, mouth already wet and waiting, parted and creating a beautiful picture. He gives him a look, eyes trailing over the figure of the teenager, and Stiles shivers under the weight of it, dropping his gaze to stare ahead. 

He’s got his jeans fully unzipped now, his bulge eye-level with Stiles and the front of his black boxers already damp with precum. He slips his hand forward, curling it around the base of the boy’s neck and guiding him into action. He starts right away, fingers curling underneath the elastic of the band, mouthing at his cock through the fabric. Derek just groans, his grip on the boy tightening, fingers sliding along the length of the leather. “C’mon.”

That seems to be all the encouragement Stiles needs, because in the next moment he’s pulling the elastic down and wrapping his fist around the base of Derek’s cock. He tries to shove the material out of the way, pushing it down and exposing more skin, but all of his attention is focused on the length in his hand.

He glances up at Derek for reassurance, gets a tighter hold on the back of his neck in response, before he’s leaning forward and licking a long stripe underneath, from base to tip. He smirks to himself, proud at the noise Derek made, before his tongue is back, pressing against the vein underneath and swiping along the slit on the head. The precum is bitter in his mouth, but the taste of it has him wrapping his lips around the head and _sucking_ , eager to get more of it. 

It’s not like Stiles hasn’t done this before, of course he has. He was a teenager, for Christ’s sake, and Derek was always willing to let Stiles try out whatever he wanted. But the last time they had done _this_ , Stiles had ended up almost puking and the gagging fit that had lead up to that was probably one of the biggest turn offs to date.

This time, though, Derek was guiding him and the fear of choking only spurred him on further. He _wanted_ to feel Derek pressed so far back in his throat. To have so much of him in his mouth at once. Stiles loved the taste of him, the feel. The _smell._

He took more into his mouth, feeling his lips stretch around the girth. His tongue never stopped moving; pressing along underneath, swirling around the head. Each time his head bobbed, he took more in until his lips were pressed against his fist. Derek was making wonderful noises above him, but each time Stiles glanced up, the Alpha’s eyes were focused solely on _him_ , and Stiles felt his dick twitch at the thought of that. His own jeans had become far too constricting at this point, but he didn’t dare press a palm against himself lest Derek punish him for it.

And God, wasn’t _that_ a thought?

Stiles closed his eyes, focusing on the motion of bobbing his head, of the feel of Derek’s cock sliding past his lips and the taste on his tongue. Derek’s hand on the back of his neck stilled him, holding him in place before pushing him closer, forcing more of his length into his mouth. Stiles couldn’t struggle against it, didn’t want to, and he forced himself to relax his muscles and allow him into his throat. It was easier said than done, the strap around his neck allowing little wiggle room.

He gagged, eyes stinging with tears. He sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, lungs burning. He knew he sounded obscene as the room was filled with the sounds of him choking, but Derek had his head tossed back and Stiles was too busy focusing on the long expanse of neck above him. His nails bit into the skin off Derek’s hips, blood welling to the surface before being smeared away, the skin below stitching together in front of his eyes. Not that he could see past the tears.

The pressure on the back of his neck eased up and he pulled back sharply, harsh coughing noises filling the air. He took deep breath after deep breath, forcing his lungs to cooperate, eyes landing on Derek’s cock; swollen, red, and covered in saliva. Heat burned it’s way up his neck, flaring across his cheeks before he was back, swallowing around the head of his cock and taking him as far back as he could.

Derek came, a deep growl rumbling through him and Stiles moaned, the fresh taste of cum on his tongue. He made sure to swallow it all, ignoring the way it dripped from his lips and down his chin. He took a moment to just breath, eyes downcast and lidded. He pressed the heel of his hand against himself, feeling his dick strain against its confines and let out a pathetic whimper. Fingers pressed under his chin, lifting it up so he could look up into Derek’s eyes. The emotions he found there startled him, momentarily confusing him before Derek’s lips were parting and he was speaking, “You can come now.”  
And Stiles did. Harder than he ever had.

\--  
They had a pack meeting later on that day. It was less of a formal meeting and more of a reason for them to all pile in Derek’s makeshift living room and watch shitty horror movies and eat as many slices of pizza as possible. Stiles had arrived earlier than normal, trailing after Derek. Neither of them spoke of what took place earlier, but Derek wasn’t as tense and Stiles was smug.

It had took the pack awhile to notice, but when they had, a thick silence fell across them. Scott looked like he was torn between puking up his dinner right there or fleeing, and Jackson looked like he saw far more than he had ever wanted to see.

Stiles lay up against Derek, tucked against his chest. The thick, leather collar was still tight around his throat. Derek’s thumb would periodically swept across it, a simple gesture that clearly stated, “Mine.”


End file.
